Page 70 of Keep Me

“Of course I did,” Killian replies, pulling me closer. I rest a hand on his chest and stand close to him.

“What would your father say about your long absence?” she asks over the rim of her crystal glass.

“I’m sure he’d be very happy to see Killian doing so well,” I reply, tapping my husband on the chest.

His aunt laughs into her wine. “You didn’t know him.”

“I’m sure if he was here,” Killian says, breaking in, “he’d love Sylvie too.”

My heart has the stupid idea of beating faster hearing him say that. But I quickly have to remind myself it’s just a trick. He doesn’t love me. But he’s doing a great job at pretending.

“Well, he’s not,” Lorna replies.

I notice the way she glares at him as she says that, and it makes my nostrils flare with anger. She slowly walks away from us, and I fight the urge to throw my punch in her face.

“Oh look!” one of the younger women, who I assume is Killian’s cousin, calls as she points above our heads. “Mistletoe!”

“You know what that means,” Declan adds with a haughty smirk.

I glance up and see the green ball hanging over our heads. I glance at Killian and give him a playful expression. Then, he does exactly what I hoped he would do.

He scoops me up by the lower back and tips me dramatically as he plants a deep, passionate kiss on my lips. His family cheers around us, and when he finally pulls me upright, I find it harder to wipe the smile from my face.

He’s starting to relax. I can tell.

When we first entered the party, Killian wasn’t himself. He was too tense to be the sarcastic, snarky asshole I know.

When Killian and I move to the corner of the room with fresh drinks in our hands, I turn toward him and whisper, “Your aunt is a real cunt.”

He chuckles to himself. “You’re not wrong.”

I glance around the room. “So, this is her house?”

“Yep.”

“Does she have anything cool we can steal?” I mumble into my glass.

“Nothing I want,” he replies.

“Come on,” I mutter, grabbing his hand. “I’m sure we can find some trouble to get into.”

No one notices as we slip out of the room. I pull him past the kitchen and up a flight of stairs. We come across an office, two bedrooms, a large bathroom, and the primary bedroom. We end up in what I assume is her bedroom, and I immediately start to snoop.

“Why does she hate you so much?” I ask as I peer at all of the jewelry on her dresser.

He shrugs as he leans against the doorframe. “She blames me for my parents’ death.”

My head snaps in his direction. “What? Wasn’t it a car accident?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles as he nods his head.

“That’s terrible.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he replies, looking down.

Picking up a pearl necklace, I hold it up over my dress. “What do you think?”

“She’ll kill you if she catches you going through her things.”

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